Let's Kill Caesar

32: Rome's Favourite Gardener

When they drove into the city Cato barked, "Get down Brutus, the cameras will be on the prowl."

Endymion frowned and ducked down. The car windows reflected a relatively picturesque day, a quiet taunt from the gods. Quiet, if only for a brief moment.

And then Cicero hissed, "Here they come."

Endymion flinched as Cicero reached for a crumby looking jacket at her feet and tossed it over the hunched passenger. He took it gladly as the sky was blocked out by bright flashes and black trench coats of news teams. 

"Fuck." Cato's fingers slipped against the steering wheel. The green of his eyes brightened in the spots of the blinking cameras as men laden with equipment jogged beside the car. 

"What are they doing?" Endymion whispered, heart stammering in its usual beat. 

Alma didn't look back, shoulders tensed as she replied, "You, Brutus. They must have seen you getting in with Cato."

"Am I really that big of news?"

Her answer sent a peculiar thrill down his spine. "Now you are. Hold onto your seat Brutus - you've just become important."

Important. In a sentence with my name. He hated how much he liked it. Endymion wrinkled his nose, pulled closer into himself. He could hear shouts, orders, begging. The car screeched to a halt. 

"Fuck Cato!" Cicero snarled, hand poised against the dashboard. "You need to go slower or you'll hit someone!"

Iovita sighed, rolling his eyes at her. "You're right. I'll handle it."

"Thank you." Alma risked a tiny glance back at Endymion, brows knit tight. The two smirked at one another when all of a sudden Cato winded down his window.

"Cato-"

Instantly the paparazzi flocked over, faces lit up with delight. Short lived. Cato poked his head out and screamed into the prodding microphones, "MOVE OFF THE ROAD OR I'LL RUN YOU DOWN!"

Endymion winced as his cousin slammed his palm on the horn with a childishly devious grin. The camera-wielding bastards dispersed with gasps. 

Say what you would about Cato, but no one in Rome was more commanding than him. Not even Cicero. Iovita finally released the horn and rumbled forward, tongue flicking against his teeth like a cheeky viper. Alma didn't even bother to scold him. She couldn't stop smiling. 

"FUCK OFF!" Iovita stuck his middle finger out the window as the car shoved into the bustling traffic of the main district. A few sorry stragglers attempted to catch a glimpse of the shamed senator so obviously hiding in the back seat. They gave up when the brake lights flashed suddenly. 

"I don't know how the people tolerate you," Alma cackled, hitting Cato's arm with a grin. "Anyone else would have been shoved off the Tarpeian rock by now." 

"Haven't you noticed? Romans rule by pretty privilege Alma."

Endymion snorted, rolling his eyes. "So humble cousin. How do you do it?"

"Don't even start, you shameful lump. Do I have to remind you why we're in this mess?"

Cicero wagged a finger at both of them with a scowl. "Save your bitching for Pompey boys."

Endymion frowned, face pressed deep into the seat. His stomach was stocked full of electrified moths screaming at him to run to the toilet. An unfortunate manifestation of crippling anxiety; Endymion would have preferred a lump in his throat over urges to shit himself. 

He drew in a short breath and picked at the beds of his nails. Endymion's eyes couldn't help but lift to glimpse the fragments of passersby. The human body was instilled to search for hurt when it was still raw. It was an unbeknownst obsession of Endymion's; seeking the ones who would hurt him deeper than he could fathom. So he just laid there, hands limp and eyes hollow.

It felt like hours had passed when they finally rolled onto a long driveway lined with merry peonies. 

"You can get up Brutus, it's alright."

Endymion swallowed, slowly sitting up. His knees were locked together as the car sluggishly rolled over the stained concrete. They were greeted by bright blooms, the last before the frost took the soil for good. 

Marigolds, blush-pink roses, bushels of sweet lavender, tendrils of jasmine and crawling tiny white flowers. Endymion hadn't seen such vibrant blooms this close to winter. 

"Are they fake?"

Cato snorted. His fingers drummed on the steering wheel as he answered, "No; and for Juno's sake don't say that to Pompey. They're his pride and joy, tends every single petal himself." 

Endymion raised his brows. "Really?"

He'd seen and heard of many off things amongst the Roman elite. But a senator who gardens? Labours like the common blood in the country?

"Why?" Endymion peeled back the hardened skin buried in the side of his thumb nail.

"Because he wants to," Cato said bluntly, shooting his cousin an amused smirk. "How am I to know? This is the same darling of Rome who pals around with Caesar."

"Easy on the Vero slander." Alma frowned, mouth set as she flashed Iovita a look brimming with meaning. Endymion didn't bother decoding it.

Cicero dug out a hair tie from her pocket and pulled her curls into a frizzy ponytail as she continued, "Pompey is not someone you want to cross Cato. He's Rome's favourite for a reason."

Her eyes didn't move from Iovita until he grudgingly nodded. Endymion felt a shudder creep down between his shoulder blades. It was hard to imagine anything beyond that refreshing calm eloquence Narcissus oozed. How could someone that considerate be anything more than frustratingly likeable? 

The car pulled up in front of an emerald door dotted with delicately placed mosaic flowers. On queue the cute door swung open and Pompey glided onto the marble porch. Endymion blinked. 

Narcissus wasn't in his usual chic getup. His pants were grey jeans and he sported a graphic tee stamped with a lily curled around a dagger. Endymion could only hope it wasn't a warning. 

Cato turned the car off and jumped out with a calculated smirk. Alma followed and beckoned for Endymion. 

"Here goes."

The young senator swallowed hard before slowly inching into the open courtyard. His stomach was wilder than a storm in the Aegean. Each step felt painfully heavy; he failed to meet Pompey's eyes. 

Alma matched her pace with Endymion and reached a hand out to rest on his shoulder. Thank gods for her. Her thumb pressed hard against his skin, willing him to walk. 

Endymion's breath rattled as those grey eyes raked over him. There was no telling what they could be saying. He's going to kill me, one thought whispered. He'll turn me over to father, another hissed. 

He ducked his head, cheeks pinking. Alma's touch fell as she said, "Thank you Narcissus. Truly."

"Of course." His voice was gentle, kind. Endymion's head snapped up as Pompey added, "Antony's a cruel fucker, there's no way I'd let him win."

"That's it?" The words left his mouth befoe Endymion could think. Pompey frowned, tilting his head like a golden retriever.

"Did you actually think I'd come for you Brutus?"

Endymion's lips pressed into a line. Narcissus just smiled and pointed to the front door. "I thought Alma would have taught you better. Allies don't make mistakes - their enemies do."